Leap (before you look)
by luvsanime02
Summary: Clint doesn't hesitate before jumping off the roof while barefoot and wearing only boxers. There aren't many people he'd do that for, but Natasha is #1 on the list.


**Disclaimer: **I don't own Marvel comics or characters or movies, and am making no money off of this fic.

**AN: **Written for ClaraxBarton! For the October 16th Spooktober prompt: sacrifice.

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**Leap (before you look) **by luvsanime02

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Clint's already leaping off the roof of the building before anyone can tell him not to. Not that there's anyone else around to see except the bad guys. Not that anyone who knows Clint would bother with telling him not to jump off a building while trying to save someone else.

Still, there's only about a handful of people who Clint would jump off a building for while barefoot and dressed in nothing but some old boxers, and without first securing a rope or something. Natasha is definitely first on that list of people who Clint would sacrifice himself for without a second thought, though. Or even a first one.

Besides, if Natasha dies, then Clint will never find out why he was just woken up by a grenade being thrown through his window, and then had to climb onto his roof to be met by some thugs trying to shoot him full of holes. Clint doesn't deserve this kind of treatment. He hasn't done anything to anybody to deserve something like this.

Well, not this week, anyway.

Plus, there's the whole 'Natasha being his best friend and partner, and the only reason why he gets up some mornings' thing. Her dying would put a real damper on all of that. Especially the 'getting up in the mornings' part.

Clint manages to grab Natasha's ankle and swing them both sideways. Because she's Natasha and she's awesome, she knows it's Clint and uses their momentum exactly the way that he intended - namely, saving both of their asses by throwing out a rappel line and swinging them back through Clint's busted-open window.

Sure, they crash through broken glass - which Clint's back and shoulders are not happy about - but in the grand scheme of things, they're both relatively unscathed. Works for him.

"Thanks, Clint," Natasha says, not even looking at him because she's too busy covering their retreat further into Clint's blown-up apartment. Which is fair. (He's so happy that Kate stole Lucky again this week. Clint does not need the added guilt of getting his dog killed.) Plus, this gives Clint enough time to grab his bow and two quivers of arrows - and decide that, sadly, putting on some pants would take too damn long - and shove his feet into his boots.

Good thing he never bothers to untie them before kicking his boots off, because the last thing Clint needs right now is to trip over the damn laces and get both himself and Natasha killed. She'd never forgive him. Not for getting her killed, but for doing it in such a ridiculous way and by complete accident.

"No problem," Clint says, meaning 'It was a huge problem, but what isn't?'. Natasha will understand. "What's happening?" A sitrep would be nice right about now.

Natasha, uncharacteristically, hesitates. Clint can tell the difference between her being silent because she's focusing on shooting bad guys or because she's been ordered not to divulge certain information and this silence. He gives her time, taking out a few long-range targets as the two of them move carefully down Clint's apartment building's stairwell. They're boxed inside, but so is anyone coming after them, and Clint knows which team he's betting on.

Same one every time.

"I might have made a slight miscalculation on my last mission," Natasha admits eventually.

From Natasha, that means she fucked up. Big time. Clint takes a moment to absorb this knowledge - it's never happened before that he's aware of - before he nods his head.

"Extraction?" he asks, letting the topic of Natasha's last mission drop. She'll tell him or not later. For right now, they have to get the hell out of here. Christ, but Clint feels like he's in a damn video game, and not Mario Kart.

"ETA is six minutes," she replies, which is both good and bad. On the one hand, it's clearly going to take them a few more minutes to get out of Clint's building. Plus, Natasha just confirmed that she at least had time to signal for backup before all hell broke loose in Clint's apartment building. Sure, he and Natasha could escape and find their own way to S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, but there's no harm in accepting help if it's being offered.

The bad news is that six minutes is a lot of time for the enemy to regroup and send for their own reinforcements. Also, Clint still doesn't have any pants.

"What's the bad news?" he asks sarcastically.

Natasha smirks. "Strike Team Alpha responded to my call," she says, even though she knew damn well that Clint's question had been rhetorical.

Great. Rumlow is never going to let Clint live this one down. Suddenly, making it to S.H.I.E.L.D. on their own seems way more appealing. Clint spares one second to send a long-suffering look Natasha's way. "Now this," he says resignedly, "reminds me of Budapest."

"Huh," Natasha says. "I think we remember Budapest very differently."

Clint agrees.


End file.
